


The Heart Knows No Borders

by oschun



Category: War Boys (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oschun/pseuds/oschun
Summary: The complicated love story of George and David.This is a complete, stand-alone story so you don't need to have seen the movie for it to make sense.





	The Heart Knows No Borders

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sylvanwitch for the beta.
> 
> This is based on the 2009 movie, The War Boys, starring Brian J. Smith (Sense8) and Benjamin Walker (Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter). The first part is pre-movie backstory. The last part is post-movie development. The middle sections broadly follow the plot of the movie, focusing specifically on the relationship between George and David. It also includes some extended and missing scenes. So I think it makes sense on its own without having seen the movie.
> 
> Just a warning that a central plot point in the movie which leads to the climactic action at the end is a deeply unpleasant event, although there aren't any graphic descriptions of it in the fic. Also, in the first part of the fic George and David are seventeen years old.

**PART ONE: GROWING UP**

“What is it about borders that makes them so sacrosanct? There’s one side and there’s another side, and then there’s this arbitrary fucking thing in the middle that divides them.”

David leaped up from where he’d been lounging on his bedroom floor, almost knocking over the can of beer next to him, and marked a line in the carpet with his toe from one wall to the other, the ruffled ridge in the thick ply making the abstract concept a physical reality, the invisible made visible.

“I’m over here and you’re over there. And here’s this invisible, inviolable, fucking insurmountable boundary that separates us.”

George propped himself up on an elbow and took a swig from a beer on the nightstand. He rearranged the pillows on David’s bed and lazily lay back, watching David with amused tolerance.

In affected slow-motion, David ran at the invisible wall he’d created to divide his bedroom into two separate countries, mimed bouncing off it with an exaggerated look of shock and confusion, then started feeling its unseen solidity, exploring the hardness of its imagined existence with flat hands.

George laughed. David was a pretty good mime, even though he was drunk. David was always good at everything.

“And it’s about who owns what. Everything on this side is mine.” David swept a hand across his larger part of the room like some sort of conqueror. He pointed to George’s smaller area. “What’s left on that side is yours.”  

He looked coolly at George lying on his bed. “And because I am richer than you are and have more land than you do, I get to despise you, whereas you can only envy me.” His voice took on a sing-song rhythm. “Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, lived in a trailer until he died. Trailer trash, trailer trash, come out and play, it’s all okay.”

George stopped smiling. “Don’t call me that, David.” 

David smirked and put his hands on his hips. “Why? It’s true, isn’t it? George’s dad drives an old taxi cab. David’s dad owns a fleet of shiny, new trucks and is the richest man in town. Poor George lives in a trailer on the wrong side of the tracks. Prince David lives in a beautiful home with a swimming pool and two housekeepers.”

Irritated, George threw his half-full can of beer at David’s head. He was seventeen years old and understood the gravity of wasting stolen beer, but this seemed to warrant it. Laughing, David ducked, and it went flying through the open doorway into the bathroom.

George glared at him. “You’re an asshole.”

David grinned, unrepentant. “So are you. That’s why we’re best friends.”

George got up and went over to stand in front of David. They looked down at the carpet boundary between their feet. George inched forward so his toes just met the line. It brought him within a hair’s breadth of David’s body. He looked up and gazed intently into David’s eyes. David met his gaze with a smirk.

“What you don’t know about me, _Prince David_ , is that I’m an anarchist rebel who doesn’t give a shit about your arbitrary borders. I can come over there anytime I like and take what I want. Your rules don’t mean shit to me.”

David grinned. “Careful now. Over here we lynch border thieves.” His breath was warm and beery in George’s face. He’d taken off his t-shirt earlier and George could smell the sweat on him. David liked to walk around shirtless, not because of the heat, but because he was tall and athletic and liked to show off his body.

George felt a sudden need to stroke the vertical groove above David’s upper lip that lay between his arrogant nose and sarcastic mouth, had to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself from doing it. “You’ve got to catch me first, motherfucker.”

David’s lips quirked. There was a moment of anticipation as they waited to see who would make the first move.

Simultaneously, they grabbed each other and started wrestling. David tried to use his height to get George into a head-lock, but George ducked low and gripped him in a bear hug, pushed hard until they fell in a heap on the floor.

George lay on top of David and pinned his hands above his head. “I’m the one making the rules now, you pampered little prince. Beg for my mercy.”

David’s chest was rising and falling with exertion. He shifted slightly and widened his legs so George was positioned between them, their hips aligning. “You want me to beg?” he asked in a breathless, challenging voice.

It was David’s voice more than anything that always got to George. It had this husky quality that made everything he said sound like a whispered, amused secret.

Because he never could back down from a dare, George responded to the challenge in David’s voice by pushing his hips into him and felt David start to harden, felt it without surprise. This moment had been coming for a while. They both knew it, both recognized it for what it was, now that it was here.

“War Boys don’t beg for mercy,” David said in a low tone, his eyes full of heat and challenge.

“We’ll see.”

George started slowly moving his hips and rubbing himself against David’s body. They were both hard. David’s mouth dropped open, his body still and tense. His breath was audible in the quiet of the room. George wanted to lean down and kiss him, to push his tongue deep in to his mouth, but felt unsure. That would be an intimacy beyond just rubbing against him like this.   

David looked up at him, his expression unguarded. He was looking at George’s mouth. “I want you to,” he said quietly. “I want you to kiss me.”

“So, beg for it,” George replied, thrusting against him, deciding it was important that David had to work for this, had to want it more than he did.   

David closed his eyes and arched his back, the tendons in his neck taut, his breath coming in little pants. George stilled the movement of his hips, waited for him to open his eyes again. “Beg me for it.”

A slow, knowing smile lit up David’s expression. “Is it because I called you trailer trash? You’re trying to punish me?”

“Call me that again and I’m going to punch you in your smug mouth.” It wouldn’t be the first time. Things could get rough between them sometimes, an unexpected, latent violence coming out in their playfighting and wrestling.

“I’d rather you kissed my smug mouth.”

George leaned down and bit David’s neck, heard his sharp intake of breath. He whispered in his ear, “Then you know what to do.” He lifted his head and waited, watching David closely.

“Okay.” David licked his lips. “Please,” he said, giving in. “Please kiss me, George. You know I don’t give a shit about where you fucking live.”

“I’m only friends with you because you’ve got a swimming pool,” George lied, then leaned down and pressed his lips against David’s. He ran his tongue over David’s bottom lip and felt the way his whole body shivered in response. When David breathed out a long, slow breath through his mouth, George pushed his tongue inside.

Turning his head slightly, David deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling together. His long legs were wrapped over George and he started thrusting up against him, making small, pained sounds deep in his throat. It felt so good. George got lost in the heat of David’s mouth and the hard friction of David moving against him.

David suddenly gripped George’s arms and bit out, “Stop! Jesus, I’m going to come in my pants.”

George stopped moving his hips and laughed. “You’ve got no stamina, rich boy.”

David rolled them over so that he was now on top looking down at George. “It’s not my fault. I’m helpless against the skills you’ve learned on the street making extra pocket money for sexual favors.”

George had no skills. He’d only lost his virginity to a girl at school four months ago, and it hadn’t gone well. This was different, though. It felt good. It felt right.  

David moved so he was lying next to George, one leg flung over his, leaning on his elbow. He ran his eyes down George’s body, paused at his groin, reached out and stroked the hard line of his dick straining against his shorts. George groaned at the feeling.

“Can I?” David asked, fingering the waistband of his shorts. George nodded and let him pull off his shorts and underwear.

It was enough to make George feel lightheaded to see David’s familiar hand wrapping around him, that long-fingered, pale-skinned hand, almost as familiar to George as his own hand. His nails were too long. David used to bite his nails until they bled, but typical of him he stopped completely in just a single day when he finally set his mind to it.

George sucked in a quick breath when David rubbed the head of his dick with his thumb. David smiled at his reaction and did it again, fingered the slit, before going back to jerking him off in long, slow strokes. It wasn’t taking him long to figure out the angle, the pace and pressure that George liked. David was always a quick study.

It felt too good for George to last. “David, I’m going to come.” George expected him to watch but instead he kissed him through it, long, deep kisses that took George’s breath away and kept him just on the edge of orgasm for aching minutes.

George lay boneless afterwards. David trailed his fingers through the come on his stomach, lifted it to his nose and sniffed it with curiosity, then tasted it tentatively. George laughed. “Is it gross?”

“No,” David replied with a serious expression. “Not really.”

He licked his finger and gave George a heated look before sitting up and taking off his shorts. He paused, then wet his hand with George’s come and started stroking himself, slow at first, eyes on George, then faster and harder, his eyes half-closing, a glazed expression on his face. George watched a flush spread up his chest. He obviously liked it hard and fast. No surprise there. His expression was intense as he neared orgasm. Unconsciously, George held his breath. 

The feeling of David’s warm, wet come hitting George’s stomach and mixing with his own gave him a strange shivery feeling inside.

Lying down next to him afterwards, David trailed his fingers through the wetness on his stomach and smiled slyly.

Warily, George asked, “What?”

David’s grin widened. “Jizzing on somebody is like marking your territory. You belong to me now. You crossed the border into my space and now I own you.”

“I thought that was piss.”

“I can do that too if you like.”

George laughed, but felt unsettled by the idea that there was something irreversibly true in what David had said.

 

Two days later David’s mother got her diagnosis and David reacted typically. He got weird and complicated in ways that George couldn’t fully understand or predict.

When George felt angry, he acted angry. When he was hurt or happy or sad or confused, he acted out those feelings. But David’s emotional make-up was different, the connection between his feelings and his behavior was less logical, less connected.

He suddenly decided to run for senior-class president and did it seemingly without irony or satire. He became more overtly charming and sociable, and yet maintained his public persona as David Welch, the sensitive and edgy outsider, son of the richest man in town, now son of a dying mother. He blatantly played the sympathy card, and everybody fawned all over him like they’d been waiting for him to play this particular version of himself. Then, a few months later, he started a campaign of personal sabotage that involved a level of rebellious wildness and cruelty to other people that went way beyond his usual pranks. The only reason he didn’t get kicked out of school permanently was because of his mother’s illness. Even his dad’s influence wasn’t enough.

When he was alone with George he was mostly himself, would talk to him at length about the progress of his mom’s cancer in knowledgeable and well-researched terms; then he’d cry for hours and talk about how much he loved his dad, how much he admired his stoicism, and how he was going to college to become what his dad wanted him to be, that he owed him that.

Sometimes, though, he behaved like George didn’t know him inside and out, tried to play him, to rile him with bullshit, and then they fought, often physically, and one of them would end up hurt and bleeding. And George knew that David did it on purpose. He didn’t want to be used in that way, but he’d always been caught up in David’s orbit and didn’t know how to change the way it was between them.  

 

After the funeral and the obligatory tedium of the reception— too many chicken wings and clichéd, polite conversation—they went to the War Boys’ war room in the abandoned factory down near the train depot to get drunk.

The three War Boys: David and George and Greg, a friendship forged in beer and border patrolling. Vigilante protectors of the frontier. Like Greg’s dad had been when he worked for the border patrol, until he disappeared one night and was found dead the next day out in the desert. 

David was quiet and had an intense, coiled energy about him that made George nervous. They opened the cheap bottle of whiskey straight away, passing it between them and getting through half of it before starting on one of the six packs of beer. Greg was sitting on a half metal drum. George was slumped on a beaten-up old couch that some down-and-out had probably used as a bed. David was perched on the arm of the couch or standing or pacing.

“Your mom was a real nice lady, David,” Greg said, opening a beer.

“Thanks, Greg. I’m sorry she asked if you were the new pool boy that first time you came to the house. You look like a real Mexican, and it’s an easy mistake to make living on the border.” 

George sighed and prepared himself for a long, hard night.

Greg’s expression didn’t change. Ignoring David’s remark, he reminisced with a smile, “She asked me what I was reading that first time I came to your house and I was so shy I couldn’t answer at first. It was so funny. I’d just been to the library and I had all these fat, heavy books about history and politics and poetry in my bag that I only ever half read. I just pulled them all out and laid them on the table. She laughed at me and got this skinny little book off the bookshelf and gave it to me. She said you shouldn’t read books _about_ poetry. You should just read poetry.”

“Did you read it?” George asked.

“Some of it. I’ve still got it. It’s easier to read the stuff that explains it.”

David stripped off his shirt, threw it to the side and started pacing. “It’s easier to have everything explained to you than to think for yourself.” His voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

Greg flicked a bottle cap at David. “I can think for myself.”

“Can you?” David picked up three beer bottle caps lying at his feet and started juggling with them. “How can any of us think for ourselves?” He caught the caps in one hand and hid them behind his back, went over to Greg and said, “Left hand or right hand?”

Greg made an elaborate show of thinking about the choice, before eventually tapping David’s right arm. David bowed and placed a beer cap on his head. “I anoint you King Greg, the king of the border. You think you’re American but you’re not. You’re neither here nor there. You have a foot planted on each side of the border and your royal balls are sitting on the fence.”  

Greg flicked the bottle cap off his head. “Fuck you, David. You have no idea what it’s like to be me.”

George sighed. “You don’t have the right to be an asshole, David. Not even today.”

“Wait your turn,” David replied and started carefully juggling again.

“Left hand or right hand,” he said moving slowly over to where George was sitting, his eyes on the movement of the bottle caps: from hand to hand, up in the air, hand to hand, up in the air.

George grabbed one of the bottle caps deftly out of the air. “I’m not choosing blind. And you’re not forcing me to choose anything I don’t want.”

David grinned at him and took a long swallow from the bottle of whiskey next to the couch. His skin was pale and smooth in the half light, his jeans riding low on his hips. “Oh, Georgie,” he said in that maddeningly husky voice of his. “Always thinking you have free will.” He stepped forward and sank onto George’s lap, his thighs locked around George’s, their groins pressed close together.

George glanced nervously at Greg, who was watching them with amusement, unaware of the significance of what David was doing.

David shook out a cigarette from a pack on the armchair of the couch and lit up. “That’s not how life works, George. No matter how brave and bold you think you are. No matter how much choice you think you have. You still are what you are.” He blew smoke in George’s face like some silver screen femme fatale.

George took the cigarette out of David’s hand and ground it out on the arm of the couch. He looked coldly up at him, pretending not to be unnerved by his proximity and refusing to back down from the challenge posed by David’s groin against his. They hadn’t touched each other or even acknowledged what had happened in David’s bedroom since that day, not after everything with David’s mom.

“This is America, David. Land of the free. I choose my own destiny.”

David threw his head back and laughed. The movement pressed him closer against George’s dick. George bit the inside of his lip and willed himself not to get hard. He wanted to lean forward and bite David’s nipple. It was pink and tightly pebbled.

“That’s true, George. We are the American dream. Greg over there was born and bred in the U.S. of A. He won’t even speak Spanish. Your dad is living the dream, a self-made man supporting his family through hard work and thriftiness.” David leaned forward until his nose was touching George’s, his breath ghosting over his lips. “And look at us,” he whispered quietly so Greg couldn’t hear him. “Two fags in love despite the boundaries of wealth and class.”

It was the sneer in his voice that made George lose it. He grabbed David around the throat and punched him once, hard and quick in the face. David fell back and landed on his ass on the concrete floor. He laughed loudly, blood staining his teeth, as if George had made an excellent joke.

“The two of you are fucking insane,” Greg complained.

David got up and patted off the dust on his jeans. He spat out some blood, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That we are, Greg, completely fucking insane. That’s why I love him so much.” He bent down, gripped the back of George’s head and pulled him into a hard, closed-mouth kiss. Quickly, he drew away before George could think about hitting him again, then went over and did the same thing to Greg, who just laughed and pushed him away. David kissed the top of Greg’s head. “I love both of you.”

George could taste David’s blood in his mouth.

David stepped away and raised his hands in the air, the smooth, lean lines of his body shown to perfection. “We’re the War Boys and this here is the wild frontier, kill or be killed, be a slave or be free.”

Greg whooped and threw an empty longneck at one of the steel girders above them. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the warehouse. David howled like a wolf and threw the half-full bottle of whiskey against the wall. Greg jumped up and started chasing David, both of them hollering, pausing to push each other around, playfully punching and tickling, falling over, then jumping up and running around the warehouse like crazed animals.

George grinned at their wildness and then joined in, like he always did.

 

David spent the next year being the perfect son to try and make up for his mom’s death. He worked part time for his dad at Welch trucking, got straight As and sports trophies, studied hard to push up his GPA to get into Law at Duke University, his dad’s choice. Greg fell desperately, romantically in love and spent most of his time with his girlfriend. George joined the wrestling team, made some new friends, tried to reinvent himself as a ladies’ man—unsuccessfully—and learned to play the guitar.  Sometimes he felt a lonely, angry ache from somewhere deep inside himself, the cause of which he didn’t quite understand. But mostly he just got on with things, because that’s what he always did. He and David never talked about what happened between them that day in David’s bedroom, and though there was often an undercurrent between them, neither of them acted on it again. George made up his mind that he was straight and chalked up that day to the lines getting crossed because of the intensity of his friendship with David.

**PART TWO: EDUCATION**

After graduating they didn’t see each other for months.

Then David came back from Duke for spring break and the three of them hooked up again. The War Boys reunited. There was an edge to David again, not like when his mom was dying, but there nevertheless, a bright, hard glint in his behavior, something waiting to cut through.

They hit the border near Dead Man’s Canyon one night in David’s SUV like they used to, drinking hard. They spotted some illegals jumping the fence and put the brights on them to frighten them, then radioed their location through to border patrol. David was drunk. He jumped up on the hood of the SUV and ripped off his shirt, shouting cynical shit into the darkness about the American promise of Disneyland and a Walmart for every family. George watched him through the windshield, a tall, angry figure, pale in the moonlight. Then a shot rang out and David collapsed on the hood. George’s heart actually felt like it stopped beating for a terrified second. Until he realized it was just a warning shot in the air and not aimed directly at them. David jumped up and got back in the cab, demanding they track the runners themselves instead of just sitting around in the truck. He ignored their shouted warnings and called them pussies, before running off into the night.

Of course, Greg and George chased after him, two unwitting objects caught up in David’s slipstream. Luckily, they never found anything and just ran around in the dark for a few hours like mad coyotes.

They ended up, all three of them, sleeping in David’s bed like when they were kids.

George woke up the next morning to find David staring at him, his face only a few inches away. He felt something stir inside him at the intensity of David’s dark eyes, something deeply buried. They just lay there for a few minutes studying each other like they were relearning the exact map of each other’s faces. George could feel the heat of Greg’s body on the other side of him. David lifted his hand like he was going to touch George’s mouth. George pushed him hard and he fell out of the bed, landing on his ass on the floor, an amused expression on his face. 

Greg woke up grumpy. “What are you doing? I’m trying to sleep. Why do I always wake up with a headache and feelings of guilt and regret after a night with the two of you?”

David got up off the floor and hit him with a pillow. “Your life would be boring as hell without us, you fucking librarian.”

George laughed. “Gregorio cleans the library toilets. He can’t be trusted with the books.”

“Screw you, white trash. When are you going to get an actual job?”

David smirked. “George doesn’t need a job. He sucks dick for ten dollars a shot downtown.”

George jumped up and beat both of them into laughing submission with a pillow.

Over breakfast, David’s dad said he was happy to see them together again, then proceeded to grill them about what they were doing with their lives. George told him he was planning on helping his dad out with his ‘business’, like owning one cab counted as a business, and Greg said he was thinking about taking some night classes. Truth was they were both wasting themselves, Greg cleaning the library and George working weekends at the garage; mostly they were only half-alive, bored out of their minds and eaten up with apathy.

David’s dad made an insensitive remark about Greg’s dad being missed because he’d been one of the best border patrol guards they’d ever had. Greg clenched his jaw and silently watched Maria pour him a glass of juice and serve them eggs. George squeezed Greg’s thigh with understanding under the table. To distract him, he raised his eyebrows suggestively at the fullness of Maria’s ass when she bent over to get something out of the oven. Greg lost his angry expression, smiled, then mouthed ‘fuck off’ at George when David’s dad wasn’t looking. George grinned. David tried to laugh quietly and accidentally spilled his glass of orange juice across the table.

“Be careful, David,” his dad said to him sharply. With flamboyant mock apology, David stood up and started slurping up the juice off the table. Maria clucked her tongue disapprovingly. Greg and George burst into laughter.

“Sit down, David! Isn’t it enough that I had to listen to the dean of the fifth best university in the country telling me last night on the phone what a juvenile idiot you can be.”   

“I am a juvenile idiot,” David admitted, smiling at George and Greg across the table from him, and sat back down. “Sorry,” he said and took hold of his dad’s hand resting on the table, squeezed it hard. “I’m sorry, Dad.”  

Greg and George looked away from whatever was going on between them and ate their breakfast. 

 

“What the fuck did you do?” George asked him later outside. “Were you cutting classes, Mr Perfect, Straight-A Frat Boy?”

David smiled. “I took off all my clothes in class. Just sat there and stripped them off one by one until I was bare-assed naked. Left my socks on, though, for the sake of decorum.”

George and Greg just looked at him for a few seconds, processing that visually in their minds, then burst out laughing. Greg actually started crying a little he was laughing so hard. 

“You put your nuts on display for everyone to see?”

“David loves having his nuts on display.”

“I shed my skin. That’s what I did. I was so tired of waking up every morning and feeling like I was still asleep. I was turning into a zombie. It took three classes before somebody actually made a complaint. They just pretended I was still dressed. If you walk around with your fucking eyes closed all the time, you only see what you want to see.”

Greg rubbed David’s head affectionately. “Man, I love you. You’re totally crazy.”

David looked at George. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

George smiled. “You are the sanest crazy person I’ve ever met, David. You’re also a spoiled son-of-a-bitch who gets away with shit that nobody else would.” 

David looked serious. “I didn’t get away with anything. I’ve been exiled from Duke, and my dad has been working some passive aggressive psychological stuff on me every day since I’ve been back. But this is still where I want to be.”

Greg wrapped his arms around David and hugged him from the side. “We’re happy you’re home, Davey boy. You’re totally crazy, but everything is so much more fun when you’re around.”

David looked at George again.

“Greg’s not wrong,” George admitted and pulled David’s head towards him so he could smack a wet, exaggerated kiss on his forehead. “It’s good to have you home.”

 

When George thinks about it later, afterwards, after their lives were irrevocably altered by a decision they barely understood the consequences of, he wonders if it’s because they were inherently the type of people to run headlong into trouble, or because people like them are primed by circumstance to end up in situations where things spiralled out of their control.

**PART THREE: DAVID’S PLAN**

“You’re insane, David. To do that to a parent? It’s like original sin.”

“I’m in,” Greg said looking at them with barely concealed excitement. “I’m not wasting myself anymore. I want to get out of here. This is the ticket.”

“You said that already,” George replied. “You’re stupidly in love with the sexy donut lady from the bakery in town. You think you’re going to sweep her off her feet and drive off into the sunset. You’re not thinking straight. Neither are you, David. You’ve got some serious issues with your dad. How am I the fucking voice of reason here?”

“He won’t even miss it.” David sat back, laced his fingers behind his head, and looked out at the view through the library’s windows over the barren landscape of the border and Mexico beyond.

“How the fuck does somebody not miss a truck loaded with cargo.”

David leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, looking at George sitting on the floor in front of him. “I told you. He won’t report it. It’s all black-market stuff. He’s smuggling shit like TVs across the border. My sanctimonious father, pillar of the community, has supposedly been doing it for years. He’s got half of the border patrol on his payroll. Come on, George. This is our moment." He ruffled George’s hair and said in a slow, teasing voice, “Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie.”

Greg picked up the refrain, “Kissed the girls and made them cry,” playfully tweaking George’s ear. 

“Assholes,” George hissed, knowing he’d lost the battle. 

David and Greg grinned at each other and bumped fists. Greg stood up. “I need to change out of my uniform and get my stuff. Don’t touch anything and don’t fuck with the books.”

David gave him the finger, reached out, took a book off the shelf near him and rubbed it against his crotch. He laughed and put it back when Greg looked like he was going to explode.

After Greg left, David leaned forward again and looked intently at George. His eyes were alight with excitement and mischief. “Let’s get out of here, George.”

“Out of the library? Where do you want to go?”

David snorted. He took off George’s baseball cap and put it backwards on his own head. “No, you idiot, not the fucking library. Let’s get out of this town. Let’s go on a road trip and just never come back. Me and you.”

George felt a flare of excitement in his chest.

“This is easy money, George. Hell, he owes it to me. It’s my inheritance. I don’t want to go back to Duke and I don’t want to be a goddamn lawyer. He won’t let me make my own choices.”

George reached up and took back his cap. “Just say no to him.”

David snorted again. “You’ve met him, right? Nobody says no to him, and since my mom died…”

George squeezed David’s knee when he trailed off. He understood how complicated David’s relationship had become with his dad after his mom’s death, how entwined their grief and guilt and love had become.

George bit his lip and thought about it, imagined the two of them just getting into David’s SUV and leaving town. “Are you serious about us taking off on a road trip?”

David smiled, his expression affectionate and amused. “I’m always serious about you, George.” He stroked George’s cheek and smiled again at the way George flushed and pulled back. “I missed you when I was at Duke.”

“Well, yeah, of course,” George replied, not saying he’d been missing David for a lot longer than the time he’d been at Duke. He rubbed his cheek to get rid of the feeling of David’s hand against his skin. “Why are you doing this to your dad, David?”

“Because it’s a thrill. And we need a thrill. Fuck it.”

“Fuck it? C’mon, David, don’t bullshit me. What the hell is with you? Talk to me or I’m going to hit you.”

David smiled at the threat, then his expression turned serious. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t fucking know.”

“That’s okay, I guess. Everybody’s screwed up and nobody knows why.”

George looked at David’s hands resting on his thighs. He’d started chewing his nails again. There was a bandage around his left hand. George had asked him about it earlier, but David avoided answering. “What did you do to your hand?”

David shrugged, then crossed his arms, tucked his bandaged hand under his armpit and looked out the window ahead of him.

“You feel betrayed, right?”

David turned and faced George, smiled at his insight. “And why would I feel betrayed?”

“Because you feel like it’s all a lie. Your dad, your nice house, the life you had before your mom even died. Because, for all your breaking of the rules, you’re an honest person.”

David smiled again. “Do you know what it’s like being around you, George? It’s like waking up over and over again.”

George didn’t know how to reply to that, but he understood it. _Awake_ is exactly how he always felt around David.

“He wants me to be a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. The irony is lost on him. He wants so desperately for me to get ahead in life and he’s such a hypocritical snob. He can’t see it. We’ve got nothing to lose, George. What are you going to do with the rest of your life, huh? What are the choices that really matter anymore? To rent or to buy? Regular or decaf? Eat in or take out?”

“Paper or plastic?”

David grinned. “Lubricated or ribbed?”

George got up off the floor, sat on the chair next to David and looked out at the view. “Okay,” he said. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

David slapped George on the thigh. “Yes!”

 

David, of course, turned out to be a skilled thief. He stole the keys to the truck and got George to trip the alarm in the main building of Welch Trucking to distract the security guard so he and Greg could cut through the fence at the back and David could drive the truck off the site. The guard didn’t even know what had happened until later. They left the truck in a disused wrecking yard outside of town. George knew some guys who could fence the TVs for them, but it would take a couple of days. All they had to do was wait.

 

“He’s eventually going to know it was you,” George said lying in the back of David’s SUV and looking up at the stars later that night.  

“Yeah, eventually, but by then we’ll be out of here, and it’s not like he’s going to set the cops on me.”

George propped himself up on his elbow and drank some of his beer. “That’s part of it, right? Part of the thrill for you?”

David just laughed.

The moon was full, and George could see David clearly. He looked at the bandage on David’s hand. “What did you do to your hand, David?”

David lifted his hand and looked it. “I was messing around with a nail gun.”

“You shot yourself in the hand with a nail gun?” George asked with exasperation, knowing it hadn’t been an accident. “Jesus, David, what is wrong with you?”

David smiled, his teeth flashing white. “I was curious.”

“You’re a reckless idiot.”

“I think we’ve established that.” David rolled over on to his side and looked at George. “Is that what you like about being around me?”

There was a challenging edge to David’s voice and George suddenly felt like he was on dangerous ground. He wished Greg hadn’t gone home. Being alone with David when he was like this really wasn’t a good idea. “It’s not the only reason I like being around you.”

David looked at him silently, then reached out and stroked George’s cheek.

George jumped up. “Let’s get out of here. Jesus, we’re not sixteen anymore. Let’s go into town, go to a bar and pick up some girls.”

David looked like he was going to say something, then he just nodded and got up. “Sure, George, let’s go pick up some girls.”

That’s not what happened. They went to a bar, played pool and drank a lot of beer. Neither of them looked at girls; they watched each other and tried to ignore the uneasy tension between them.

 

The next day they spent the afternoon ‘boating’, which actually meant dragging an old speedboat through the sand behind David’s SUV. George was riding the bow of the boat like a bronco when they hit something submerged just beneath the sand and he was thrown off. 

It was the sudden, painful stinging sensation in his ass that made him realize he’d landed butt-first on a cactus. It could have been worse; at least he didn’t break anything. David and Greg had little sympathy for the pain he was in and laughed so much that tears streamed from their eyes.

David dropped Greg off in town and took George home. He had to stand on the back of the SUV because he couldn’t sit down.

“You’re going to need help getting the thorns out. Where are the tweezers? And have you got antiseptic cream?” David was sitting on George’s bed watching him with an amused expression.

“In the bathroom.” George pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his face and armpits with it. He was sweating. He carefully peeled off his shorts and briefs, craning to see the thorns in his ass, but the angle was too difficult. He grabbed a towel off the floor and wrapped it around his waist when David came back from the bathroom.

David smirked. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Come and lie down.” He patted the bed in invitation.

George really didn’t want David anywhere near his ass, but he was in a predicament here because there was no way he was going to be able to remove the thorns himself. “Be gentle,” he grumbled and lay down on his stomach at the end of the bed, his arms folded, head on his forearms, facing away from David.

David kneeled on the floor next to him and moved the towel aside. “I’ll be as gentle as I can with your virginal little ass.”

George responded to the amused mockery in David’s voice. “How do you know my little ass is virginal?”

David stilled, then cleared his throat. “Okay, well, it’s a pretty thorny mess of an unvirginal ass right now.” He removed the first thorn, the fingers of one hand lightly touching George’s skin. George grunted in pain.

“Don’t clench your butt muscle like that. Just relax.” David stroked the back of his leg in a soothing motion, which did very little to help George relax.

“Easy for you to say. You’re the guy with the tweezers.” George squirmed at the feeling of David’s warm hand resting on the back of his thigh. “Just get on with it, will you.”

David didn’t say anything else as he removed the thorns. George could sense his focussed concentration. He was so close that George could feel his breath on his ass.

“So, have you got a girl at Duke?” he asked to fill in the silence.

David huffed a laugh that George could feel on his skin. “No time for girls. I was too busy trying to major in complacent hypocrisy.”

George processed that. He was pretty sure David could have any girl he wanted. He had everything going for him, combined with a kind of compelling, wild charm that people gravitated towards. But he never seemed to go out with a girl more than twice and didn’t talk about anybody he dated. 

“I think I got most of them out.” David rubbed his hand over the skin of George’s ass cheek. “Does it feel like I got them all?”

When George sucked in a breath and didn’t reply, the movement of David’s hand slowed down to a caress.

“Don’t do that, David.” George felt anger bubble up inside him. He wasn’t going to allow David to start fucking with his head again. “I don’t want the lines getting crossed here.”

“They got crossed some years ago,” David said quietly from behind him.

“Once,” George replied firmly. “I hardly remember it.”

“I remember everything.”

George’s heart started beating fast in his chest.

“The only thing that felt better than you touching me was when I touched you.” David ran a light finger down the crack of George’s ass.

George leaped off the bed and wrapped the towel tightly around his waist. “Don’t fuck with me, David!”

David remained kneeling next to the bed for a few moments, his head bowed. His eyes were dark and intense when he got up and crossed over to where George was standing. “So, we’re back to where the borders lie?”

George looked at him stonily, trying to even out his breathing. “We were just kids. We didn’t know where the line was.”

David stepped closer. “And you know where it is now, do you?”

“You’re damn right I do.”

“So just to be certain. Why don’t you tell me where it is?” David’s eyes dropped. “Is it here?” He drew a line with his thumbnail across George’s stomach, just above where the towel hugged his hips.

“Most definitely,” George bit out, staring back at David defiantly. “Yep, just at that mark.”

“So that means I can touch you here, right?” David put his hand on George’s chest.

“Check. No problem with that.”

“So why is your heart beating so fast?”

George growled, “Because you’re pissing me off.”

“We’re just establishing where the line is, George. You said it was here.” David ran his finger above the border of the towel again. “Which means I can still touch you here.” He ran the back of his hand slowly down George’s stomach.

George sucked in a sharp breath. “I know who I am, David,” he ground out, feeling some pride that his voice only wavered slightly.

“Do you, George? And what if I crossed the line? What if I touched you here.” David dropped his hand and stroked George through the towel, a gentle, knowing caress that got George blindingly hard in seconds.

“Jesus.” George closed his eyes. He was desperate to pull away or to punch David in the face or something but felt rooted to the spot. His mouth was dry and his breathing uneven.

“I don’t think you have any idea who you really are.”

George opened his eyes. David’s face was only a few inches away. David lowered his head, his breath on George’s lips. “Say you want me.”

George finally managed to gather enough strength to say, “Get the hell away from me, David. You don’t get to tell me who I am.”

David stepped back, a hint of hurt under the look of surprise. “Alright.” He nodded his head in acceptance, then said it again, “Alright.”

It was the vulnerability in his expression that made George whirl around and shove him hard against the closet as he tried to walk out the door. “What would it mean if I said I wanted you,” he demanded, his hands flat against the closet either side of David’s head, boxing him in.  

David looked at him intently for a few seconds. “Anything you want.”

Dammed up emotion suddenly burst free inside George. He didn’t care about the consequences. Didn’t care about how much this might fuck him up or fuck up his friendship with David. He tried to capture David’s mouth in a hard and punishing kiss, but David turned his head away and he was left mouthing his jawline. George slowed down, then stopped. David still had his face averted. George kissed his jaw gently. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. There are no boundaries between you and me. There never have been.”

David turned his head slowly and waited. George kissed him tentatively, just moving his lips over David’s, leaning closer so their bodies were flush together. David made a satisfied sound and deepened the kiss, bringing his hands up to cradle George’s head. David’s lips were so soft, the inside of his mouth so hot, his tongue moving in slow, suggestive thrusts that connected to George’s groin.

“I want to fuck you,” George said against David’s mouth, surprising himself with his directness.

David leaned back against the closet, his eyes lazy, lips reddened. “Alright,” he said huskily.

George licked his lips uncertainly and took a deep breath. “Take off your clothes.”

David lifted his arms compliantly and George pulled up his t-shirt. It got stuck over David’s head and both of them laughed. George managed to pull it off and threw it to the side. “Why are you still wearing a t-shirt you used to wear in tenth grade? It’s too small for you.”

David smirked. “Because it looked good on me then and it looks good on me now. I know you always liked me in it.”

George ran his eyes over the smooth, pale expanse of David’s chest, the lean lines of his abs and pelvic muscles. He unbuckled the belt of David’s jeans, pulled it out of the belt holes and dropped it on the floor next to him. David’s stomach muscles tightened. George unbuttoned his jeans, then slowly unzipped them. He kneeled and pulled them down to his ankles. David’s dick was a hard bulge in his white briefs. George leaned forward and kissed the head through the thin cotton.

David clenched his hands into fists, then loosened them and scratched the closet with his nails. George pulled down David’s briefs and repeated the kiss on bare skin. He licked the drop of pre-come at the slit.   

David groaned. “Jesus, George.”

George looked up at him. “Do you want me to blow you before I fuck you?”

Unexpectedly, David started to laugh. George sat back on his heels. “What?” he asked, feeling embarrassed.

David leaned down and stroked his cheek. “Nothing, it’s just you shouldn’t say things like that to me in the position you’re in. I could accidentally come in your face.”

George didn’t laugh. “So, do you want me to suck you off first?”

David flushed. “Yes. I mean no. I don’t think so.”

George raised an eyebrow, surprised by David’s sudden lack of sureness.

“I’d rather come while you’re inside me.”

“Okay, get on the bed.”

David lay down and George took another opportunity to look at him, thinking about all the times he’d jerked off imagining David lying naked in his bed like this. He loosened the towel around his waist, letting it drop to the floor, moved up David’s body, kissing the flatness of his stomach and sucking his nipples until they were hard. He moved higher and kissed David slowly on the mouth. Lifting his head, he said with a smirk, “Turn over, frat boy.”

David laughed and kissed him again before rolling over and widening his legs. George reached out and got a condom and lube from the drawer of his nightstand. He kissed down the smooth, pale, planed contours of David’s back. Sitting up, he straddled David’s thighs. “You ever do this before?”

David nodded into the pillow. George could only see his profile.

“At Duke?”

David nodded again. “Once. And one other time before with a guy who worked for my dad. Have you?”

George thought about that, vaguely angry and vaguely turned on by the idea of David being introduced to sex by some older guy who worked for his dad. “No, not like this, but I traded blowjobs with that kid who moved from Florida in our senior year. A couple of times.”

“Yeah, I know.”

George frowned. “How?”

“He told me when he warned me to stay away from you and tried to kick my ass.”

“What? I didn’t know that.”

“I told him you would never love him because you loved me and then I let him hit me in the face a couple of times. It seemed only fair.”

George’s hands were trembling as he uncapped the lube and spread David’s cheeks. “I liked him. You ruined that for me just because you could?”

David nodded.

George poured the lube on his hole and circled it with his finger. “You think you had the right to do that?” He pushed his finger into David’s body.

David grunted and tightened around George’s finger before relaxing and letting him in. “No, I had no right at all, but I did it anyway.”

George pushed another finger in. “You’re a son-of-a-bitch, David Welch.” David groaned and lifted to straighten his cock under him. George took the opportunity to push a third finger into him, watching the way David’s body reluctantly opened to him.

David’s voice was a husky, hoarse whisper when he replied. “I told you, George. When you crossed the border, you became mine.”

George pulled out his fingers. “Turn over.”

David’s face was flushed, his hair tousled, eyes dark with intense emotion. George got up onto his knees between David’s legs and rolled on the condom. He leaned forward and pulled David’s leg up, started inching his way inside, watching the red flush of blood spread across his chest. “What about this border? The one I’m crossing right now?”

David palmed George’s ass, lifted his hips and pulled him slowly and steadily all the way in. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you, George,” he said tightly. “You don’t even notice the borders.” His voice barely faltered, even though his expression communicated pained pleasure and his nails dug into the flesh of George’s ass.      

George fucked him hard, knew David wanted it like that. They came at the same time, George shuddering violently, feeling like he was going to pass out as his orgasm rolled through his body. David bit him hard on the shoulder and brought him back to himself in the middle of it with sharp, hot clarity.

George stayed inside him too long afterwards, just lying on top of him and breathing with him as he softened. It didn’t matter, though, the condom had split anyway.

David kissed the top of his head when he lay down with his head nestled into David’s shoulder. “I hope you haven’t given me something after all that dick you’ve been sucking downtown to make up for not having a real job.”

“More likely to get something from you via your slutty, frat boy fuck-buddies,” George growled. He smiled as David’s chest rumbled with laughter under his ear.

They lay together like that, not talking, until George’s family arrived home. David refused George’s mom’s invitation to stay for dinner because his dad was expecting him. He gave George the most intense look as he left, a look that made him feel like he was being really seen, really known.

 

The next morning, George woke up in the early hours and sat outside watching the sun rise. He thought about David, about how his love for him was like a kind of addiction, how it had often caused him pain and loneliness. He’d always been caught up in David’s orbit, less of an individual in his own right and more like something half-formed with no sense of its own place in the universe. And what would happen now? Now they had crossed the line they had been skirting for years? He pictured them driving off into the sunset in the SUV David’s dad had bought for him, their pockets stuffed full of stolen cash.

In the lonely, speculative light of dawn, it felt a lot like just another one of their childhood fantasies.

“You’ve been sitting there all night, not moving, are you dead or something?”     

George turned. Cat was standing in the doorway in her pyjamas. He pulled himself out of his thoughts, smiled and patted the step. She hesitated, obviously still angry with him for some mean, impatient comment he’d aimed at her recently and already forgotten. 

She eventually sat down next to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“The meaning of life.”

She nodded sagely. “I think about that a lot too.”

George smiled. “You’re like nine years old. You spend all day running around in that stupid bandito costume stealing bicycles. When have you got time to think about the meaning of life?”

“Actually, I’m ten. And I think about a lot of things, like about who my real parents are, and where I’m from, and who I am, and who I’m going to be. Did you really spit on my head when mom and dad first adopted me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m an asshole.”

Cat nodded. “Why don’t you like me?”

“It’s not that I don’t l—” he hesitated over the word choice. “It’s not that I don’t love you. I do. You’re my sister. It’s just that you’re different, that’s all.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

George realized he’d never properly considered the answer to that question. “No,” he answered. “I guess it isn’t. I never really thought about it.”

Cat leaned her head on his shoulder. “What have you been thinking about sitting out here all night?”

“Something happened to me yesterday.” George looked out at the reddening sky, at the way the light intensified the color of everything. “It’s like I was walking down a street, a street I knew real well. I didn’t even have to look where I was going. And all of a sudden, I found myself in a place I’d never been before. And I felt like I’d been there my whole life. I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

Cat lifted her head from his shoulder and considered him seriously. “That happens to me sometimes. Sometimes in a dream and sometimes when I’m taking a detour on my bike so the witches don’t know which way I’m going. But you should always know the way yourself. Otherwise you can end up in a dead-end or in a bad place.”  

George ruffled her hair. “Witches aren’t real, stupid.”

“That’s what you think, _stupid_ ,” Cat countered.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m in love with David. Not like how you normally love your best friend but like how mom and dad love each other.” He watched Cat to see how she would react.

“Okay,” she said simply.

“How do you feel about having a brother who’s like that?”

“Different is okay, right?”

George laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Here,” she said and placed a small wooden boat in his hand. “It’s magic. It’s for protection, to keep the witches away.”

**PART FOUR: CONSEQUENCES**

“What the hell did we get ourselves into, David?” Greg was pacing David’s kitchen floor and running his hands through his hair. “Your dad isn’t letting it go like you said he would. He sent his goons after Marta. They’ve been watching her and following her. There’s something else in that truck. It’s not fucking TVs!”

David took a sip of his coffee and then placed it carefully on the kitchen counter. “Keep your voice down, Greg. Maria’s upstairs.” His expression was thoughtful. “Marta worked for my dad for years before she bought the bakery. So, he’s got it into his head that maybe she pulled some kind of inside job with the guys she still knows at the company. She didn’t. They’ll figure that out and it’ll all blow over.”

Greg walked up to David. “You didn’t see them, David,” he hissed at him. “These were very serious looking guys. I don’t even think they work for your dad. We’re in trouble.”

“Maybe it’s drugs,” George said quietly from where he was sitting at the breakfast bar.

David snorted. “Drugs? My dad? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Why? Because your dad is such an upstanding pillar of the community,” Greg demanded.

“I never said that,” David replied. “It’s just a really stupid fucking suggestion that he’s trafficking drugs.”

Greg stepped up close to David, suddenly very angry, and said in his face, “Call me stupid again, David.”

David stood, silent and inscrutable, watching Greg warily. George went over and put a gentle hand on Greg’s arm, realized how wound up he was when he felt the tension in his muscles.

“What?” Greg asked George, shaking off his hand, “You’re the only one who gets to punch David in the face?”      

“I get it, okay,” George said quietly, pulling Greg away from David. “You’re worried about Marta. You want to protect her. And you’re right, David has an eminently punchable face, but technically he called me stupid, not you. We’re all freaked. We need to just calm down.”

George looked at David. “We’ve got to go and look. It’s the only way we’ll know.”

David picked up his keys. “So, we go and look.” His skin had paled and his mouth was set in a determined line. George could see he was scared of what they were going to find.

Greg walked out of the kitchen ahead of them. George pulled David back and whispered, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Ready or not, here we go, Georgie.” He smiled and wrapped his hands around George’s head, pulled him into a kiss that felt like he was trying to breathe through George’s mouth.   

 

It all happens so quickly, so slowly, like a nightmare playing out in unreal time. They drive out to the wrecking yard, open the truck and realize what they’ve done by leaving it locked up in the heat for days. The bodies are lying there still and dead in the back. Greg is throwing up. David is frozen, pale as a statute. George is trying to think, trying not to shout out loud, is shouting as loud as he can at nothing, at everything.

They’re caught up in their own horrified reactions, when David’s dad suddenly arrives. He has a gun. He’s shouting at David to get in the car with him so they can get out of there. George tries to understand what’s happening, understands that David’s dad is trying to leave him and Greg behind. The cops arrive. They have their guns trained on them. David is screaming at his dad. He’s got the gun now and he’s pointing it straight at his dad, his expression mad and cold, the face of a stranger. George is moving in slow motion, everything else is so fast, all he can hear in his head is his own hoarse shouting.

There’s a shot and David starts to fall.

_One time David climbed up into the unsteady steel girders that held the roof together of the disused warehouse of the War Boys’ war room. He stood perfectly poised above them, shirtless, his arms stretched out and just leaped out like he could fly. He almost missed catching the chain hanging from the roof, almost missed those few inches that separated him from life and death. Almost._

George gets to him as he falls, catches him, and then time starts up again.

A red flower of blood bloomed across his t-shirt where he’d been shot by one of the cops ranged on the ridge above them. George held him in his arms. “Don’t you die on me. David!” David’s skin looked like marble, his eyelids were fluttering, his gaze emptying. “No! David! No! You don’t get to check out on me. Not after all this.”

David’s gaze briefly cleared. “George.”

 

David spent a week in hospital hovering on the edge of living and dying. George slept on a chair outside his room the whole time.

David’s dad made a deal for his testimony and evidence against the key players involved in the smuggling ring in exchange for David, George and Greg not facing any charges. He was charged with human smuggling and causing the deaths of ten people, and got life imprisonment.

David stayed with George and his family for the first few months after he got out of the hospital. He struggled at first with a lot of basic daily stuff. George knew it was an unhealthy, fucked-up thing, but he liked David’s dependence on him, liked being needed.

David was silent a lot of the time.

“He’ll be okay, baby,” George’s mom said to him. “Just give him time.”

But David wasn’t okay. He became more and more shut off. He’d inherited some money after his mom died so he was reasonably independent, despite the Feds appropriating everything that was legally in his dad’s name. He moved into a small apartment downtown and did that typical David thing of becoming really complicated and unpredictable and self-destructive.

He started partying really hard and George saw him less and less. One time George went over and found David’s apartment door unlocked. There were drugs and bottles of booze everywhere inside. The place was filthy. David was asleep in bed with two guys. He woke up and saw George standing at the foot of his bed. Flipping back the sheet so George could see they were naked, he smirked and said, “Want to join us, Georgie?”

George walked out without saying anything, feeling like his heart was breaking.

He went back two days later, determined to have things out with David. He found him slumped on the couch in front of the TV. He had dark rings around his eyes and looked pale and thin.

George turned off the TV, didn’t sit down because he really needed to stand for this. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know you feel guilty and you should. We’ll carry this our whole lives. But you lived, David. You got shot and you survived it. You need to figure out how to live with this.”

“What if I can’t?” His voice was dry and brittle, his eyes blank as he looked at the dead TV screen.

George took a deep breath. “David, do you love me?”

David looked at him for a silent moment, then said in a hollow voice, “Yes, but it’s not enough.”

So George did what he needed to do for himself. He walked away.    

 

**PART FIVE: ADULTHOOD**

George made the decision to leave home, something he should’ve done years before. He moved to Houston, mostly because it seemed as good a place as any other, and trained to be a mechanic, mostly because he’d always had a vague interest in cars and engines, as much as he’d ever been interested in anything. The specifics seemed to matter less than simply deciding to do something.

After he’d qualified, he went into partnership with a guy he knew from school and they built up a good, reliable business. George no longer pretended to himself or to anybody else that he was straight. He dated, and even briefly lived with a guy who loved him more than George loved him in return, so it eventually ended, badly, with a lot of shouting and hurt feelings.

George bought a house. It amused him to think of himself as a homeowner. He never went back home, not even to visit. His parents had to come to him. Cat would sometimes spend vacations with him. They became close in a way that surprised him. Greg and Marta visited a few times after they got married. George saw them less after the birth of their first child. They were happy together, and Greg seemed to have dealt with the past in a way that George admired and envied.  

 

It was a hot summer’s day five years after George left everything behind him and started a new life for himself. He was in the garage workshop. Two of the mechanics, John and Simon, were working on a Dodge Challenger Hellcat and doing that thing of talking about a car like it was a really hot woman.

“Quit pawing that beautiful machine,” he said to them. “It’s perverted.”

Simon laughed. “Like you wouldn’t do her if you could. Or is she too much woman for you to handle, George?” Simon was straight, came from a conservative background, but was a friend and mostly tolerant of George being gay.  

“This car,” George said sidling up to it with a mock leer, “has a cock. And he likes to be ridden hard and fast by a real man who knows how to drive a stick shift.”

John laughed and said, “You are right, George. This car definitely has a really big cock. Simon wouldn’t know what to do with it.” John was bi, completely open minded, and sometimes ganged up with George against Simon to embarrass him.

George stepped up to the boot of the car. “You see, Simon, this is how you handle a car like this.” He pretended like he was fucking the car from the back, making loud exaggerated sex noises. Rolling his eyes, Simon tried not to be amused. John doubled with laughter.

George was just getting into his Meg Ryan fake orgasm routine when it went silent. John cleared his throat and looked over George’s shoulder, his lips tightly pursed to stop himself from laughing.

Of course, George knew there was a customer behind him, probably the owner of the damn car. He schooled his features and turned around. Then just stood there, frozen.

David was standing at the entrance to the workshop wearing an amused expression. “A new fetish, George?”      

John and Simon went back to work on the car, still laughing. George walked over to David. He looked good—strong and healthy—nothing like the last time George had seen him. He was still so beautiful; it almost took George’s breath away.

“Hi, George,” David said quietly, smiling.

Unsmiling, George replied warily, “Hi, David.”

David’s smile faded. “I’m sorry to turn up like this. I thought about phoning first but…” he trailed off. “Your parents told me where I could find you.”

George nodded but didn’t say anything. Mostly because he was still trying to recover from the shock of suddenly being faced with David after all these years. Stupidly, he felt like bursting into tears. He also felt like crushing David into a hug or kissing him or punching him in the face. No change there then.

David cleared his throat uncertainly. “I thought I might buy you a cup of coffee.”

Knowing he needed to protect himself, George hardened his expression. “Why?”

“I’d like to talk to you, if you’d listen. Please, George.”

“I’m busy right now,” George replied curtly.

David nodded, his expression open and vulnerable. “I understand.”

George turned around and walked away without looking back.

 

George worked late and found David waiting for him outside when he finished. He was leaning against the hood of a car in a pair of slim-fitting jeans, a tight t-shirt and sunglasses, all long, lean lines, just casually waiting for George as if he had any right to do that.

“What do you want, David?”

David took off his sunglasses. “I know I don’t have the right to ask, not after how I acted, but can we talk?”

“About what?”

“About everything. I’m so sorry about all of it.”

“What is this, the twelve-step program? You need my forgiveness? Fine, you’ve got it.”

David smiled wryly. “No, it’s not the twelve steps, although I guess in a way it is. Of all the people in my life, George, you are the one person I really never wanted to hurt. I’m so sorry for dragging you into that mess and then pushing you away afterwards.”

“David,” George said impatiently. “You didn’t know. There was no way you could’ve known. It was a fucked-up situation that we stupidly got caught up in because we were stupid, reckless, angry, fucked-up kids. People died because of us. And I get it. You couldn’t deal with the guilt. You needed to do what you needed to do on your own to get through it. I’m glad you’re okay now. Let’s leave it there.”

“George—”

George wasn’t listening. He walked over to his car and drove away.

 

The next day when George got home David was parked outside his house, sitting on the hood of his car in the same patient position waiting for him.

“Jesus Christ, you are so fucking stubborn!”

David smiled at him. “So are you. Are you going to invite me in?”

“No,” George said, not meaning it. David figured that out and followed him into the house.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Please.” David was looking around the open plan kitchen and living area of George’s house. “Nice place.”

George grunted. The house was fine and suited his needs. It was functional, comfortable and uncluttered. He gave David a beer, then went out back and sat on a chair on the porch. David followed him and sat in the chair next to him. They didn’t talk for a few minutes.

“The garage seems to be doing okay.”

George looked at him and arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? We’re doing small talk?”

“I don’t know, the fact that you’re doing okay seems like pretty big talk to me.”

George drained half of his beer. “I’m doing okay,” he agreed. When David didn’t say anything else, he asked, “You?”

“I’m alright. Just moved to Houston.” He paused, then said quietly, “I’ve been working for a foundation that supports at-risk kids through mentoring programs and youth services organizations.”

George burst into laughter. “Are you being serious?”

David smiled wryly. “Yeah. It turns out adults who’ve gone through certain things themselves are good at helping young people go through similar things.”

“What is it, some kind of penance?” George asked, not hiding the note of cynical sarcasm in his voice.

David didn’t get defensive like George thought he might. “Maybe at first. But somebody helped me, and it was through him that I’m doing what I’m doing now. I never had a real plan before for my life.” David smiled. “We were going to become outlaws, do you remember?”

George smiled back because he couldn’t help it.

“And then I was going to become a corporate lawyer because my dad wanted that for me. And then I thought I’d run my dad’s business with him because I thought that was what I wanted for myself. But a lot of the time I just fantasized about running away with you, hitting the road, the two of us, travelling, or crossing the border and opening up a bar, drinking beer in the sun and having a lot of sex on the beach.”

George’s hand tightened around the neck of his beer bottle. It was like David had lifted that specific fantasy right out of his own imagination. He got up and went back into the kitchen to get them another couple of beers.

“Thanks.” David took one from him when he came back out. “But now,” he continued, “I feel like what I do has some small meaning, like I mean something.”

George listened to the sound of David’s voice. He’d missed it so much that his chest ached. The light was fading. A bat flitted across the yard. “Nothing we do will ever make up for it,” he said.

“No, it won’t,” David agreed quietly.     

They were bonded together in that moment, sharing an understanding of a terrible burden that was specific to them, that would always be a part of them.

“Do you want to eat? I’ve got some steak. I can do it on the grill out here.”   

David smiled. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

George got up. “Don’t thank me yet. According to most people, I’m a terrible cook.”

“I don’t know. You always did a good peanut butter sandwich.”

George was about to go into the kitchen when David suddenly stood up and caught his hand. He turned George to face him, pulled him close, holding his wrists, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry I said your love wasn’t enough. It should have been.”

George sighed. “What are we doing here, David?”

David’s grip on his wrists tightened. “I’ve loved you my whole life, as far back as I can remember.”

George looked at David’s mouth and tried to ignore the desperate longing that surged in him. “You don’t even know me anymore.” He knew it was a lie. It was impossible for him and David not to know each other.

David stroked George’s cheek. “You know who I am, George. And I know who you are.” He stepped back. “I’ve got something for you.” He went over to his chair and pulled something out of the pocket of his jacket slung over the back of it. He took George’s hand and placed the small wooden boat Cat had given him just before everything went to hell. “You left this on my doorstep, right? When you left town?”

George smiled. “Yeah, it’s a magic talisman to protect you from witches, according to Cat. You kept it all this time?”

“I did. I really needed it for a long time.”

“Witches, right?”

“Fucking witches,” David agreed with a smile.

George reached out and stroked a finger along the groove that connected David’s sharp nose to his full mouth, and then the corresponding dip in his bottom lip. David sighed, caught his hand and kissed it. “I’ve missed you.”    

George thought about how he felt David’s absence like an empty hole inside himself. “Are you really hungry? I could do the steak. Or we could just go to bed.”

Bed was obviously the preferred option for both of them. They almost didn’t make it when they started kissing out on the porch.

They made their way to George’s bed in staggered stages, stripping off their clothes, kissing constantly, getting distracted along the way to George’s bedroom by some new intimacy. George pushed David against a kitchen counter and sucked him off until he nearly came, then David did the same thing to George on the couch in the living room. Halfway along the passageway to the bedroom, both of them nearly lost it when David held George against the wall and jerked them off together, their cocks rubbing hard against each other.

George had a weird feeling of time glitching when he settled between David’s legs and pushed inside him, like he was getting lost in every time he’d fantasized about this since he was a kid, and then lost further in the real memory of it that once. It got all mixed up with the reality of David’s older, harder body underneath his. “Jesus, I feel like I’m drunk or high,” he breathed into David’s ear.

David pulled him closer. “Fuck me harder.”

Afterwards, David held him so tight that George had to say, “Let me breathe, David. I’m not going anywhere.”

David huffed an embarrassed laugh and relaxed his hold.

“Have you already got a place in Houston, or do you want to move in here?” George asked. They hadn’t turned on the lights and he couldn’t see David’s face, but he could feel the way David’s whole body relaxed when he said it.

“Have you got space for all my crap?” David asked carefully, his hand a warm heat on George’s chest.

“Yeah, I do,” George said and pulled David’s arm tightly around his body.

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> There are two full versions of the movie on youtube. The first has Hungarian subtitles which means if you don't speak Spanish then you can't see the subtitles in the few scenes where the characters are speaking in Spanish. The second link doesn't have that issue but unfortunately starts 30 minutes into the movie.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eb2z4oPkGdQ  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGRJO9LInJo


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